


the desire of the moth for the star.

by unlessitshouldbewithyou



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Assassination Attempt(s), Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:45:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10179971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unlessitshouldbewithyou/pseuds/unlessitshouldbewithyou
Summary: She looked up, expecting the red and blue of Supergirl’s suit, the gentle fluttering of her perfectly coiffed hair, the stoic, yet kind expression permanently etched onto her features.But there was no suit, no perfectly coiffed hair, no stoic expression.Cat discovers Supergirl's secret identity in a way she never expected, which leads to some surprising realisations.Or, the one where I'm weak for mutual, unresolved pining, Cat being a damsel in distress, and Kara completely losing control.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Canon-divergent from season 1, assume this happens in the beginning when Cat still has no idea who Supergirl is.

Cat Grant was going to die. Of this much she was certain.

After having faced her own mortality on more than one occasion, Cat had often wondered how she would react, when it finally happened. After the multitude of disgruntled former employees, the very public lambasting of many a popular public figure, the publishing of powerful secrets which often led to the collapse of entire companies, the left-leaning stance of her magazine, she had plenty of people that wanted her dead.

She had always thought, or perhaps hoped, that if or when it happened, she would maintain her composure, level her killer with that classic Grant glare and have the last word with a pithy one-liner before it’s over. After all, she didn’t spend decades building this facade just to have it erased by a goon with a gun at the very last second.

Unfortunately though, that’s exactly what was happening.

Cat could barely focus on breathing, so the chances of thinking up a scathing, yet witty remark for the man in front of her were minimal.

He had burst through her office door in a red-faced rage and shot at her before she could even glance up from her computer. The bullet had missed and shattered one of the televisions mounted on the wall behind her, sending glass shards skittering along her desk and into the plush carpet beneath her feet. Absurdly, her first flicker of realisation at the circumstance was coupled with her annoyance at the massive cleaning bill she’d undoubtedly have to pay.

This train of thought was immediately shelved when Cat looked up from where she had ducked behind her laptop screen and met the eyes of this would-be assassin. 

The man was clearly insane. He had the appearance of someone who’d never had an easy moment in life, who had aged gracelessly and now looked fifteen years older than they actually were. The five day old stubble on the man’s neck did nothing to hide the tideline of dirt where his skin met his jacket. His fingerless gloves looked like they were never meant to be fingerless, but had just become that way through wear. There was a grease stain on his off-white t-shirt, and rather embarrassingly, his fly had been left undone. His disheveled appearance did nothing to take away from the man’s ability to terrify. 

It was the eyes, Cat vaguely noted. They were wide, red-rimmed, unblinking. The whites of his eyes starkly contrasted with the dark of his irises, which appeared almost black in the dim lighting of the office, and evoked the sense of a trapped animal, desperate, and passionate in its will to survive.

“You fucking bitch.”

Spittle obscenely flew from the man’s lips as these words were rasped out, the volume increasing with each syllable until the word ‘bitch’ echoed, and petered out, leaving an awkward and deafening silence in its wake.

“Inside voice please.” Cat’s usual confident tone was gone, the words felt clunky in her mouth. “If you want to talk like adults, we can, but first, tell me who you are.”

He stared blankly at her as if the words didn’t really register for a beat or two, then leapt into action, crossing the office in just a few long strides and rounding the corner of her desk with the butt of the gun clenched tightly in his fist. She could only watch helplessly as he raised his arm and backhanded her, striking her across the mouth with the cold metal. The blow was hard and Cat tumbled from her chair with a sharp cry, blood spattering across the carpet as she fell awkwardly on her elbow. The sight of her own blood shocked her into realisation, where before there had only been a sort of disassociation with her current predicament. Her stomach swooped dangerously and for a moment she had to focus on not being sick. All she could feel was fear, and pain where her tooth had cut into her lower lip. His boots came into focus before she felt a hand grasp her hair tightly, pulling her upwards and forcing her onto her knees. He was so much stronger than her that she didn’t even entertain the notion of fighting back. He was close enough now that she could see the beads of sweat on his temples, the grey hairs on his chin, the red veins in his eyes, and the sneer of disgust on his mouth. His rancid stench filled her nostrils and her stomach recoiled once again.

He stepped back a few paces, never breaking eye contact, raised the gun still clutched in his hand, and pointed it straight at Cat’s face.

It was at this point that Cat felt certain she wouldn’t survive this encounter, and her mind became a jumbled mess of disconnected thoughts. She thought of Carter, with his father this weekend, tucked away in bed, his Supergirl bed sheets keeping him safe and warm. Would he feel it at all when she died, as she was sure she would feel it intuitively if something ever happened to him? She lamented her stupidity for working so late with only a dithering old night-guard to protect her. She remembered her father and how he had always smelled of peppermint and how that scent still held a degree of comfort for her now. She considered any escape routes and quickly ascertained that short of running to the balcony and flinging herself off the side in the hopes that Supergirl would just happen to be flying past to catch her, there were none. Lastly, she thought of Kara, and how glad she was that in a fit of consideration, she had sent her home hours earlier, despite her willingness to stay and help her work. God, how she would never forgive herself if any harm should befall that sweet, wonderful woman. It provided her with a degree of comfort to imagine the last moment she and Kara had shared; Kara poised at her office door, hideous green sweater draped over one arm, stack of paperwork grasped in the other, glancing back over her shoulder to say goodnight. She could picture perfectly the way her glasses had slipped down her nose slightly, the loose strands of wispy hair that had escaped her fishtail braid at the back of her neck, the wide, unrestrained and reverent smile that Cat knew was reserved only for her.

Her incoherent inner rambling was soon replaced with a blessed blank mind when the man’s filthy hand trembled, and he uttered four words which she was sure would be the last words she ever heard.

“This is for Supergirl.”

There was something oddly beautiful about the moment before death. Cat became so much more aware of her body and the life bursting inside it. She could feel her heart in her chest beating wildly, she could hear her blood thrumming in her veins, she could feel every muscle strain as her fists clenched tightly, she saw in exquisite detail and slow motion how her killer’s fingers squeezed the trigger, the last image burned in her mind as she closed her eyes and braced for the impact of the bullet entering her brain.

But it never came.

She couldn’t be certain which came first, or which was louder, the crack of the gun firing or the almighty crash which smashed every single one of her balcony windows. 

When Cat opened her eyes, astounded and entirely grateful to be alive, she was met with a closed fist hovering inches in front of her. It unclenched slowly and out dropped a single bullet, thudding quietly onto the floor. She looked up, expecting the red and blue of Supergirl’s suit, the gentle fluttering of her perfectly coiffed hair, the stoic, yet kind expression permanently etched onto her features.

But there was no suit, no perfectly coiffed hair, no stoic expression. Instead there was a green sweater, falling haphazardly off of one shoulder, a messy fishtail braid, and a face she didn’t recognise at first, having never seen it so twisted in anger. There were no glasses perched on the end of her nose, but there was no denying that Kara Danvers was standing in front of her. 

Kara Danvers had just caught a bullet in her hand. A bullet that was meant for Cat’s head. 

Cat looked past Kara to the man who had quickly lost his bravado, and was now stood gaping like a fish with his gun raised uncertainly between them. When Kara stepped forward threateningly, he stumbled backwards towards the balcony, tripping over the door frame, shooting rapid fire towards her, each bullet cascading limply to the floor, useless. By the time his clip was empty, Kara had stalked to within arms reach, and his face displayed nothing but abject terror.

It was no surprise really, if Supergirl was looking at her like that, she would be terrified too. 

Cat had never seen such a thunderous expression, on either Supergirl or Kara Danvers. Her eyes were glassy, her mouth set in a firm line, her brows creased in pure hatred. Cat could only imagine how much more impressive a sight it would be if she was wearing her usual costume.

The man who tried to kill her seemed to think better of fighting back, and threw his gun to the floor, lifting his hands up in supplication. But before he could sink to his knees and surrender, Kara had grabbed him by the neck, hoisted his entire body in the air one-handed, and slammed him into the ground, his head making a sickening crack as it met the hard tile on Cat’s balcony floor. Cat could see that the man was knocked unconscious instantly, perhaps even worse than that, judging by the spatters of blood that had fanned out around him, but in that moment she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

However, when Kara made no move other than to tighten her hold on his neck, slowly squeezing the life out of him, Cat decided she had to act. Supergirl doesn’t kill, it’s part of what makes her so noble and benevolent, and Cat wouldn’t let her give that up for some lowlife who smelled like he had never used soap.

Cat struggled to her feet, her body suddenly feeling foreign to her.

“Supergirl.” Her voice was tremulous. Kara didn’t react.

“Supergirl,”she blurted, panicking now, the man was getting paler by the second, “let him go!”

Cat limped over, the blood rushing back to her feet making her stumble. She laid a hand gently on Kara’s shoulder, trying not to startle her. 

“Kara, look at me.”

Reluctantly, Kara loosened her grip on the man’s neck, but she didn’t let go or redirect her glance.

“He would have killed you.” Her voice was thick with-something-Cat couldn’t put her finger on it. Some emotion that she never wanted to hear in that beautiful voice again.

“Yes, but he won’t hurt anyone else now. You can let go.”

Gradually, Kara drew her hand back and rested it on her knee shakily. 

Cat knew she needed to call someone, sooner rather than later, but her priority at the moment was Kara. She, seemed to have withdrawn into herself, breathing shallowly and refusing to look at the man she had almost killed, or at Cat.

Very slowly, Cat sank to her knees in front of Kara, running her hand down her arm lightly and grasping her fingers between her own. She used her other hand to lift Kara’s chin from where she was staring, unseeing, forcing her to meet her eyes. 

Kara’s eyes were strikingly blue, and wet. When Kara hurriedly searched Cat’s face and found her lip, swollen and bleeding, the tears she had been holding back broke free, spilling over gracefully onto her cheeks. 

“Ms. Grant-“ her voice broke almost immediately, quickly turning to sobs, “-I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry Ms. Grant, I should have been here, I, I should have got here sooner.”

“Shhh Kara, it’s okay, I’m okay. You saved my life.” Cat couldn’t bear to see Kara’s face so contorted in pain, so she pulled her into her arms, gripping her as tightly as she could, guiding her face into the crook of her neck and letting her cry. She could feel hot tears splashing onto her collarbone, and that almost made her own floodgates open, but she refused to break down in front of Kara, not after she had already been made so vulnerable today. Cat rubbed a hand against Kara’s back soothingly, and buried the other hand in her now ruined braid, brushing her thumb against the soft downy hairs at the back of her neck. She could feel Kara’s hands clenched into her dress tightly.

“It’s not okay Ms. Grant-“ she breathed out between sobs, “-I could hear your heart, it was beating so fa-fast, and I didn’t come! I’m sorry. I thought you were having another nightmare. I should have been here.” At this, a fresh wave of tears came, but Cat was preoccupied by what Kara had just said. How did she know she suffered from nightmares? She made a mental note to bring that topic up at some point later.

After a few more minutes of crying, Kara pulled back and wiped her eyes and nose with the sleeve of that hideous sweater. Looking up at Cat’s face, her resolve almost broke again.

“I’m so-“

“Shush Kara-“ Cat cut her off by placing a finger against her lips, “-it may not be office hours right now but you’re still breaking my number one rule.”

Kara huffed out a tiny chuckle at that, a small, beautiful smile gracing her features. 

“There’s my sunny Danvers.” Cat smiled back at her, grimacing when she pulled at the injury to her lip.

Kara’s eyes slowly drifted over Cat’s face, fixating on her mouth. She lifted her hand and oh so tenderly wiped at the line of blood that had dripped down her chin, before settling her fingertips on Cat’s jaw, softly rubbing the sensitive skin under her ear. 

Cat was in awe at how someone so incredibly gentle, soft-hearted and docile could easily rip a person apart with their bare hands. Looking at the crying girl in her arms, it was hard to accept that she was the same person who flew around the city rescuing people and arresting criminals. It was also becoming increasingly difficult to ignore her feelings with the way Kara was looking at her, with such devotion and admiration that she felt like the only woman in the world. She needed to stop this, whatever it was. 

Cat extricated herself from Kara’s arms and stood up, suddenly becoming all too aware of the masses of pain she was in as Kara stood up along with her. 

“I assume you have some secret government organisation that will come and clean up this mess?” Cat gestured down at the unconscious man who had been all but forgotten in the past few minutes, as she stepped around him and back into her office, putting distance between herself and Kara.

“Uhm, yes, of course Ms. Grant, I’ll call them right away.” She picked up Cat’s office phone and immediately fumbled and dropped it again. It was incredible just how quickly she could revert from Supergirl into floundering, naive personal assistant Kara Danvers. 

“They’ll be here in five minutes,” Kara stated as she returned the phone to its cradle. “I’m sorry Ms. Grant, but they’ll want to bring you in for a health check up and to sign some paperwork.” Kara reached a hand up to fiddle with her glasses, only to remember that they weren’t there and she dropped her hand back down to her side awkwardly. 

Cat had been afraid of that, all she really wanted was to go home, run a hot bath, and decompress. What felt like hours had passed in what was actually only fifteen minutes. She had faced her own mortality, been pistol-whipped by a rogue gunman, been rescued by a superhero only to discover that that superhero had been her own personal assistant all along, then shared an emotionally charged and potentially romantic moment with said superhero/personal assistant. For one ridiculous moment Cat felt her emotions get the better of her and she felt tears spring to her eyes, but she managed to blink them away before Kara could notice.

“That’s fine Kiera,” Kara blanched at the deliberate use of that name, “but tomorrow, we need to talk about tonight, and our friend in blue.” Cat kept her tone light, but they both knew that there would be a difficult, heavy conversation coming in the morning.

Hours later, when Cat had been poked and prodded to within an inch of her tolerance level, been x-rayed and told she had a sprained wrist, been interrogated and made to sign a non-disclosure agreement, then had a bag thrown over her head and been driven home by a nondescript black SUV, she let herself settle down in bed and cry. She gave herself five minutes of weakness, before shutting off her emotions and building that wall back up. She couldn’t allow herself to be vulnerable, not with anyone, not with any would-be assassins, nor with Supergirl, and especially not with Kara Danvers. 

The most disturbing part of the evening for Cat, had not been finding out that she had known Supergirl’s secret identity all along, it hadn’t even been the near-death experience, it had been the utterly appalling realisation that in what she believed to be her final moments on this earth, her last thoughts had been of Kara Danvers. Nothing had ever frightened her more. And, starting tomorrow, those feelings would have to stop, she would do whatever it takes.


	2. Chapter 2

For Kara, dawn came far too quickly. 

Sometimes, on her days off from Catco, she would wake early and fly east into the desert to watch the sun rise over the mountains. There was something incredibly satisfying about watching the stars fade into lightness. On cloudless days, the light from the yellow sun would reflect off the red sand, creating an orange glow which reminded her so much of Krypton that her heart felt like it would burst from nostalgia. Kara always preferred to rise with the sun. It had been such a huge part of her existence for such a long time, it’s what gave her her powers, what made her Supergirl, what set her apart from everyone else on this planet. Even when she had spent all night battling her enemies, as soon as those first rays of morning sunshine touched her skin, she felt re-energised, like she could do anything.

Of course, there was none of that this morning. She had spent a good portion of the night watching from afar as the DEO doctors examined Ms. Grant, and then she had spent even longer using her super hearing to listen in as Hank asked her question after question, trying to ascertain whether she would be a threat to their undercover operation. She was, after all, the Queen of all media. She had eventually been allowed to go home at around 4am, after signing a non-disclosure agreement which even the most skilled lawyers would not be able to break her out of. 

After Ms. Grant had left, Kara’s attention turned to the man that had almost become her victim. He was still unconscious, lying on a cold, metal gurney in the medical wing with tubes protruding from his body in every direction. There was a thick bandage wrapped around his head, hiding the damage she had done when she had slammed him into the ground. Though there was nothing to hide the thick purple bruises on his throat, where she had almost choked him to death. Part of her felt guilty for what she had done, but another, deeper, darker part of her wished that she had just held on a little longer, squeezed a little tighter. She had longed to feel the pulse beneath her thumb flutter and cease. 

It should have come as no surprise, the sheer depth of her feelings for Cat Grant, but it still shocked Kara to realise without a shadow of a doubt that she would kill for her, that she would abandon the principles she had held dear to her for so long. 

Alex had told her, after scanning the man’s fingerprints into the DEO database, that his name was Damian Murphy, and that he had been linked to an anti-alien terrorist organisation in National City for many years. He had been living rough after a warrant was issued for his arrest when he planted a bomb in his neighbour’s mail box, mistakenly believing the family were aliens. A woman and her infant son had died instantly when the bomb exploded. Intel from within the organisation revealed that when Supergirl made an appearance, Damian Murphy had become obsessed with her and the woman that had thrust her into the spotlight; Cat Grant. Ostensibly, he wanted Ms. Grant to die simply for giving Supergirl a platform. Kara’s stomach clenched uncomfortably with this news. She blamed herself for not being there with Cat to protect her, and now she had to bear the knowledge that she was the reason she had been put in danger in the first place. Alex also informed her that Damian Murphy’s MRI scans had shown no permanent damage to his brain, and that he should make a full recovery, after which he would be handed over to the NCPD to face trial. It should have brought her some comfort, knowing that he would be fine, instead she just felt numb.

Kara didn’t even entertain the notion of going home to sleep. 

Dawn rose while Kara was in the training rooms, the kryptonite filters turned up until the punching bags she envisioned as Damian Murphy’s sallow face bruised her knuckles. 

Kara walked into Catco that morning as the condemned walk to the executioner; convinced she was about to face her own demise at the hands of Cat Grant. Cat’s foreboding ‘tomorrow, we need to talk’ had filled her with a sense of trepidation that she couldn’t shake. Kara had tried so hard over the past few months to conceal her true identity that she had paid no mind to the possibility that Cat would ever find out. She had certainly never considered her reaction when she did. Would she be angry that she had hidden who she really was? Especially considering she could have given Catco the Supergirl exclusive that Cat wanted all along. Would Cat even allow her to keep her job now that she knew she had to split her time between getting coffees and layouts and saving the world? Surely she had noticed her absences recently, there were only so many times she could be “at the copy machine” during one shift.

Kara loved her job. She was good at it, it kept her grounded and made her feel like a normal person on days that were anything but ordinary. Being Supergirl was wonderful, and there was no denying the impact she had had on National City as a hero, but being Cat’s assistant allowed her to feel helpful and important in a more human way. Saving the world as Supergirl was one thing, but there was something indelibly satisfying about solving a crisis as Kara Danvers that made her feel so much more significant than anything else ever could. 

There was also the incredibly pressing issue that if she lost her job at Catco, she would then have no excuse to see Cat everyday, a thought which bothered her more than she cared to admit.

When Kara arrived at the top floor, the contractors were just finishing up re-installing the glass in Cat’s balcony windows that she had so carelessly barrelled through last night. The office had been transformed to the point that nobody else would ever know anything had happened there. The balcony had been re-tiled, the smashed television screen replaced, and the carpet was pristine. Kara, however, couldn’t forget the sharp red of Cat’s blood which had splattered over the floor behind the desk. If she focused her senses, she could still smell the metallic scent lingering in the air. 

She was just getting settled behind her desk when she heard Cat’s car pull into the underground garage, the softly spoken ‘thank you, Kieran’ to her driver a few seconds later, and then the quiet hiss of elevator doors sliding shut. The heartbeat that Kara had come to know and love so well became gradually louder as Cat’s private elevator got closer, she used a blast of heat vision to re-heat Cat’s latte when Cat was about six floors away, replacing the lid and standing just in time to greet her as she stepped into the bullpen. 

She snatched the latte out of Kara’s hand without so much as glancing in her direction, stalking towards her office barking out orders to anyone that deigned to make eye contact. 

Everyone except Kara, that is. 

Kara was quietly left behind with the flurry of activity that followed Cat to her office, where an editorial meeting was quickly taking shape. Usually, Cat would gesture at her to edge in at the back of the office to listen and take notes, but today Cat seemed steadfast in her decision to ignore her. Instead, Kara used her superhearing to listen in, and took notes anyway, watching as everyone in the office tried not to stare too obviously at Cat’s lip, which was still swollen and bruised. 

It carried on like this for almost the whole day. Where Kara was making special efforts to be extra attentive and to predict what Cat needed before she could ask someone else for it, Cat was resolutely ignoring her. Kara didn’t think it were possible to so effectively avoid someone who was sat in your direct eye-line less than twenty feet away. 

At midday, Kara went to get Cat’s lunch order only to be told haughtily that she was leaving the office for lunch and that no, Keira, she did not need a reservation to be made. 

By three o’clock, Kara had caught up on every tiny, insignificant task that she had been putting off. She had updated and re-printed Cat’s contact list, she had sifted through a year’s worth of emails and deleted every unimportant one, she had checked and memorised Cat’s entire schedule for the next three months, she had even reorganised Catco’s employee database, a task which Winn had been avoiding for weeks.

By four o’clock, Kara was going stir crazy. Without Cat’s constant string of menial tasks to keep her occupied, she was bored to tears. She was also quietly stewing over Cat’s elusiveness, and craving even a single interaction with her, even if it was just to tell her to consider a change in hair conditioner. She would welcome a scathing comment with open arms.

By five o’clock, the office had started to empty and Cat was nursing her second finger of scotch. Her thousand dollar shoes had been toed off and kicked carelessly under the coffee table, her bare feet now perched casually on the corner of her desk, an unfinished article open on her lap.

Kara loved Cat like this, so in her element, so assuredly confident, glamorous yet nonchalant, accomplished but approachable. 

Kara waited until the last employee had filtered out before knocking timidly on Cat’s open office door. 

“Come in Keira,” Cat breathed out without glancing up from the article she was proofing.

They were the first words Cat had spoken directly to her all day, and even hearing the wrong name fall from her lips was a relief when she had been deprived of attention for so uncharacteristically long.

“Ms. Grant, you said we needed to talk.”

Kara received no response other than a quick gesture to sit down on the couch. Cat quickly returned to her reading, swinging her glasses around from between thumb and forefinger casually, and thoroughly ignoring Kara’s presence. 

Ten minutes later, after several long sighs and furious scribbling from Cat, and a failed attempt from Kara at beating her high score on temple run 2, Kara’s patience was running out. The tension in the room was stifling, and she had grown frustrated with this bizarre attempt at a power play Cat was clearly exhibiting. 

Meanwhile Cat, trying to keep up the facade of being busy, had completely ruined the article in front of her with meaningless red scrawls. In reality she had been stealing glances at Kara growing more and more uneasy as the minutes ticked by, letting out adorable little huffs and scowling down at her phone screen as if its contents had offended her. Cat was trying, and indeed, had been trying all day, to figure out the best way to initiate the conversation that needed to be had. She had conducted interviews with some of the most famous, intimidating people in the world, but when it came to Kara Danvers, she was flummoxed. There were so many things she wanted to ask, so many things she needed to know, but the thought of revealing to Kara just how intrigued she was with her filled her with dread. Trying to maintain an aura of aloofness with the one person who interests you more than any other, it turns out, is a struggle. 

Eventually, when it seemed Kara was about to combust with irritation, the crinkle between her brows becoming more pronounced with every passing minute, Cat brought her legs down from her desk to sit properly at her chair, steepling her fingers underneath her chin in her most intimidating pose. 

“Is there somewhere else you need to be, Supergirl?”

Kara looked up from her phone, their eyes meeting for the first time since the events of the night before. Her eyebrows had drawn together, her mouth open, floundering on what to say.

“Please don’t call me that.” 

Cat felt momentarily guilty for the pained look she had caused to appear on Kara’s face, but she went with it anyway. You can’t push someone away by being nice to them, after all. 

“Why not? That is your name isn’t it?” Cat could hear the scathing tone in her voice and hated it. 

“Not here,” Kara replied meekly, her eyes dropping to where her fingers were fidgeting in her lap.

“You’re still Supergirl whether you’re here or not, Keira.”

“Can’t we just ignore that part of me while I’m here?”

Cat was silent for several long seconds while she considered her response. As much as she would have loved to tell Kara that it would all be okay, that she was more than capable of juggling every responsibility thrown her way at work, while still sneaking off to perform her heroic duties, that she would always have a job at Catco no matter what happened, that Cat would move heaven and earth just to see her stupid, lovely face every day, that conversation was not conducive to the cold exterior she was attempting to portray. She needed Kara to think of her as every other employee did, as hard, and unyielding, and impossible to please. 

“No, I’m afraid not, Keira,” she breathed out, hating herself for what she was about to do.

“Do you think I hadn’t noticed the standard of your work dropping? Your edits are sloppy, you’re incapable of completing tasks on time, you sneak off every other hour to rescue a cat from a tree or whatever else it is you get up to. Hell, just last week I had a meeting with Billy Bob Thornton and he had to be shown in by Wilson! He put cream in his coffee for Christ’s sake, the man’s lactose intolerant!”

By this point Kara’s eyes were moist and she was pointedly looking anywhere other than at Cat.

“Honestly Keira, your mediocrity has turned to incompetence, and I cannot afford such second rate work at this company. Catco is everything to me, you know that.”

“Is this you firing me, Ms. Grant?” Kara’s voice was tremulous and miserable, but Cat was impressed that she had drawn herself up tall in her seat, and was looking her dead in the eye, the emotion on her face open, and obvious.

“No,” Cat sighed discontentedly, “it would take months to train a new assistant up to your level of knowledge and I honestly can’t deal with that headache right now.”

Cat swivelled her chair idly while Kara sniffed loudly and surreptitiously wiped her eyes with her sleeve. 

“I can do better Ms. Grant, I promise, I’ll try harder.” 

“Yes, you’d better, or you’ll find yourself without a job before you can say Krypton. Now please leave me alone before I change my mind.”

Cat was finding it hard to keep her composure, knowing she was the cause of the dejected look on Kara’s usually jubilant face. 

Kara was not faring much better. She felt like she’d been kicked in the chest. Kara was used to disappointment, but this was something else. This was the kind of soul crushing pain that came with trying your best at something you desperately want to succeed, and failing. Not only did she not perform properly at the job that she loved, she also let down the woman she was always trying to impress. She had just dejectedly made her way over to the office door when she heard Cat whisper something, as if she was afraid to say it. 

“What did you mean last night?”

“Excuse me?” Kara was confused, she was sure she’d said a lot the night before. 

“You said, ‘I thought you were having another nightmare’. I never mentioned those to you, I never mention them to anyone.” Cat was staring suspiciously.

Kara was at a loss for words. She didn’t even remember saying that. How could she have made such a mistake?

“Uhhhh…”

“Uhhhh, yes, do you have anything intelligent to say or are you just going to stand there gawking?”

“Well-“ Kara was stalling. Of all the things she never wanted Cat to know, this was the biggest, how would she explain to her boss that she had memorised her heartbeat to the extent that she could recognise it from across town, and knew when she was sleeping, when she was talking to Carter compared to everyone else, when she was scared, when she was anxious, and, when she was having a nightmare. She often woke up in the middle of the night panicking because of Cat’s wildly fluttering heartbeat, only to realise she wasn’t in danger, she was just sleeping restlessly. There had been so many nights she had flown over to the penthouse and hovered in the dark just below Cat’s balcony, only content when she confirmed that Cat was safe and alone, tucked up in bed, with Carter sleeping further down the hall. Kara’s mind had gone completely blank, a sense of dread seeped in as she realised she was going to have to tell the truth. 

“Well, sometimes, I check up on you.” She could feel her cheeks burning.

“You check up on me? What the hell does that mean? Why would you need to check up on me?”

“It’s not a big deal, really. It’s just, sometimes-“ the next words were rushed out in the hopes that Cat wouldn’t actually hear them, “-you have nightmares and it makes your heartbeat go crazy and I can’t sleep until I make sure that you’re safe.”

Cat was staring blankly at her, and she was certain that she had just ruined everything between them if it wasn’t already ruined. She was for sure fired now.

“And it’s not a big deal, I do it to everyone, really! You know me, I love safety! And sometimes, if you don’t sleep well, I know to ask for an extra espres-“

“You can hear my heart?”

“Oh! Yeah. I can hear everybody’s heart if I listen hard enough.”

“You can hear it right now?”

Kara fine tuned her senses to zone in on Cat’s soft thrumming pulse, beating slightly faster than usual right now.

“Yeah. Uhm, yes, Ms. Grant.”

As she spoke, it started beating even faster. 

“What does it sound like?” This was not how Kara expected the conversation to go.   
“Uhm, normal, I guess? It’s quite soft actually, it’s nice, calming. It lets me know when to bring your lexapro, or when you’re about to yell at someone, and it does this little stutter sometimes right before you shout my name, which is how I know you need me sometimes before you call.”

Cat’s cheeks had taken on a lovely rosy, embarrassed hue, but the look on her face was thunderous, which in turn made Kara even more embarrassed, she would be happy if the floor suddenly opened up and swallowed her whole. 

“That’s how you knew I was in trouble last night?”

“Yes.”

Cat cleared her throat quietly. “Keira, I think it would be prudent from now on if our relationship remained strictly professional.”

“Of course, Ms. Grant.”

“I can’t exactly stop you, but if you make any more of these unannounced house calls, you will regret it. From now on, if my heartbeat sounds strange, please assume that I’m having a heart attack and just let me die, at least that would save us from ever having to have another of these conversations.”

Kara was utterly mortified.

“Yes Ms. Grant, I’m sorry, it’s ju-“

“Please stop!” Cat cut her off with a sudden shout. “I’ll see you in the morning Keira, when we will both pretend that the past two days never happened.”

Cat promptly opened her laptop and started typing in what was clearly a dismissal. Kara waited another moment in the hope that Cat would say something else, end this interaction on something less negative, but it never came. She pulled her cardigan more securely around her and quickly escaped through the nearest stairwell.

Later, after she had ate two pints of cherry garcia and cried a little and reflected on how their conversation could not have gone worse, she heard Cat’s heartbeat spike from across town, and ignored it.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr.](http://bodyguardoflies.tumblr.com)


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